


Here We Stand, or Here We Fall

by 1f_this_be_madness



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Band Fic, Banter, Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, Early Days, Emotions, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Fever, Freddie Mercury Is a Good Friend, Freddie is head over heels for Jim and Rog is a little distrustful, Gen, Hugs, Illnesses, In a kind way, Innuendo, Insecurity, Jim is a Little Shit, LIVE AID 1985, M/M, Mother Hen Brian May, Nicknames, POV First Person, Platonic Kissing, Poor Brian May, Protective Roger Taylor (Queen), Self-Worth Issues, Sharing Clothes, Shy John Deacon, Smoking, Such a sweet sorrowful man, Swearing, Sweet, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24272971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: History won't care at all, unless we force the people to, my darlings! Take the bull by the horns!(Or, I was asked to write about Live Aid '85 and so I shall deliver. A sort of addendum to a previous piece - see work this was inspired by - but can also be read standalone)More work for the Freddie Mercury first person POV challenge I've heard is happening in early June
Relationships: Brian May & Freddie Mercury, Elton John & Brian May & Roger Taylor, Elton John & Freddie Mercury, Elton John & Roger Taylor (Queen), Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, Jim Beach & Queen (Ensemble), Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury, John Deacon & Brian May & Freddie Mercury & Roger Taylor, John Deacon & Freddie Mercury
Comments: 58
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You Can See Right Through Me, And I'm Falling Apart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24157783) by [1f_this_be_madness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness). 



It is a glorious day, for all of England and for Queen, in that the sky is blue and the sun is high and there's no sign of rain on this lovely midsummer day in mid-July, on which we are going to perform at Live Aid.

"AAAAY-OH! Deedoh deedoh deedoh," I warble to my cats as I get dressed, simply in a white tank and washed-out jeans, my favourite white Adidas trainers and just one article of sparkle, an armband that is silver and black and a belt of the same. Covered by my leather jacket as I go out to my car and head down to Wembley.

We stop off for Roger on the way; Brian and John are coming separately, but at least my dear drummer is with me. His step is swift as he charges out of his place - partly to dodge vulture photographers hanging and lounging round, as they always do, looking for carrion - but also from his thrown-back head and beaming smile, I can tell just how ecstatic he is. Has his wristbands, fluffy and white as the crisp collared shirt he wears, open but not all the way. He's got light jeans on too, and bright shoes of his own. I can tell behind those sunglasses his big blue eyes are sparkling.

"Freddie, darling," he purrs with that high sweet voice and lunges in to embrace me. I clasp the warm strong well-muscled back of his, toned from drumming all these years. He's done so much, _we've_ done so much.

"Roger dear, you're a sight," beaming in exuberance now myself, my stache twitches as he gives me a smacking kiss on the cheek before clapping me on the back and withdrawing. Exuberant kisses are something I am typically known for, so this is a change. "Tables have turned," I say, folding my sunglasses and tucking them into my coat as he shuffles to his spot in the car, closing the door behind him. 

Pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his bright hair, Rog bounces in place and rolls down his window. "Yeah, well I'm excited!" He whoops as we begin to head down the road. "This is bloody top, Freddie!" And then ever the student of biology, he rests one elbow on the door and turns to look at me, squinting. "How's your voice today, Fred?" He asks. "It still cocking up on you?" 

"Only cock I've had in awhile, dear, but I'm alright," I reply, and he lets out a peal of laughter even as his eyes bulge, slapping a hand across his face. I chuckle too, my chest feeling light as the sun that illuminates his fiery white-gold hair, warming the golden hues of his skin and drying the sweat beading along his collarbone and chest. 

"Bloody brilliant you are, Fred." My dearest Blondie claps me on the shoulder. 

"As are we all," I fling out one arm with a vocalisation that startles a few pigeons we've just driven by. Roger and I both exclaim, he roaring with more laughter as the birds take flight, moving as if to usher us in our vehicle through the gates of Wembley stadium.

It's sure to be a great occasion, us performing on this utterly fabulous day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was asked to write about Live Aid, so here (in particular by Hollymoonstone and Thesherlockholmes) is my attempt - it'll be at least three chapters, I should think, perhaps more. Information I know is about the show itself, so Roger and Freddie's car ride together comes from inference
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

Our car goes back with all sorts of automobiles, there are limos and jaguars and the like; I nearly laugh at the sights - milling around before going into tents and trailers, chromium and platinum and of course everything to keep us comfortable. No one has instruments out, no last-minute rehearsal or tuning from what I see. 

The performance crew is crawling all over the stage, catwalk and amplifiers, speakers rigged up; gigantic blocks of cameras and the cameramen themselves down in front of the stage. A dull roar assails our ears soon as Rog and I hop out, and I cover my eyes again as Roger sniffs and squints and looks around. His arm goes up and he beams as we head on into the melee, to see a bobbing curly head above many of the rest, and fluffy brown perm beside him, under his shoulder. 

"Bri, Deaks!" Roger crows, and in the hot and slightly sticky air thin arms wrap around me and him, Brian pressing his face into my hair as John in his light lavender shirt shakes against Roger, green-grey eyes crinkled at the edges, teeth catching his lower lip for a moment. "You alright, Deacy?" I hear our drummer murmur, and Brian holds onto me, shifting to look into my face. He smiles at me, touches my chin, nudges at my throat gently with a question in his eyes.

I smile back, lifting my hand to curl around his before saying "I'm ready to rock and roll, Brimi darling." 

He smiles again, replies "Me too, Fred."

And we are turning then, the four of us at once. Are approached by a crew member, and I wrap my right arm snugly around John as we are led to our trailer, our instruments having been taken in already, packed and brought by Miami, as he let us know last night. 

We spot a couple familiar faces as we pass between trailers, hear the roaring of the crowd, and an enormous sound crinkles my ears, music. 

The gig is on. Roger throws back his head and roars in excitement, approval. Brian sighs at the sound but his eyes are fond, and John is no longer shaking, he laughs instead.

Here we are at our trailer, waiting for the moment.

Our moment to shine again for all the world as Her Majesty, Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preparing to describe the Live Aid performance, I'm researching how many acts went on first - hopefully the short bursts of information are amenable :)
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realised my timeline was wrong for when Jim and Freddie first met, sorry loves! And so, surprise surprise...

We sit in our little trailer, its interior bright and sparkling enough for me, of course, just as fabulous; yet we also must wear our sunglasses indoors, Rog and I. Brian has gotten his guitar and is tuning her, meticulous as ever he has been before every concert that we do, and John is sitting, knee jiggling and hands locked together, near the door. His Adam's apple bobs as though he may be about to bolt, and thus when there is knocking at our door and he lunges up to open it immediately, I lift my head and extend one arm with a "Deacy, dear--"

But outside the door in a nice dark jacket and put-together outfit, a pair of beautiful eyes twinkle at me the same way I first caught sight of them and their owner at the Heaven a year ago. Such fine eyes, and a sweet round face that looks gentle and stolid and unimpressed. As if he's just been out for a stroll and found his way here. "Hiya, boyos," he says in that rich lilting voice, the tone that would remind me of harsher days in its tenor if its owner wasn't the sweetest fellow one could ever imagine. "John, Roger, Brian." He shakes hands with John and Bri, who swings his lanky body over to do so. Roger only stares in silence, giving a curt nod. "...Was told I'd see something incredible if I was t' come round here today, so. What'd I miss?" He asks conversationally.

I cock my head. "Now I wonder who might have told you about this incredible thing you'll be seeing, hm?" I ask him.

Looking across at me, stache twitching a bit but without any other trace of a smile, "Dunno, some bloke I thought was a tosser but decided to give a chance. What was his name...?" He looks at me and I cannot stop a grin, leaping forward and holding out my hands to him.

"Oh come now, Jim my darling!"

"Hullo, Freddie," he says to me, smiling at last in earnest and taking hold of my hands as he steps up into our trailer proper. I throw my arms around his neck for joy and he gently hugs me back, kissing me on the cheek before we withdraw. I can't stop myself from taking and squeezing his hand, I'm so bloody excited! 

Roger snorts a bit and says "So, Hutton, this 's your first rock concert, eh?"

Jim ducks his head to focus on Roger, who is still sitting with his sunglasses hiding his eyes, one brow cocked above them. "Yes, it's my first time. Never thought to go to one before," he shrugs a little.

John expels a slight chuckle as Brian says "Oh that's all right," as if to soothe. He doesn't know that Jim is not really much for rock music. 

But Jim says right out "Well I'm not much for it, really, but figured might as well give this one a go since I was so cordially invited." He smiles at me, and I at him, wrapping my arm around his waist after a second of hesitation and squeezing.

"Oh, you won't be disappointed!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *boyos = it's so Irish, I know, but Jim is Irish, a hairdresser who didn't have a clue who Freddie was when he initially introduced himself at the Heaven a year before.
> 
> My apologies for not having the timeline quite right in my head, thank you for your comments on the first chapter letting me know I needed to fix it :)
> 
> What do you think of how I wrote Freddie and Jim? I'd love to know.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	4. Chapter 4

"At least not by us, what the fuck are Straits up to?!" Roger, having stood at last with a grunt of exertion, hears the sound of the act on a bit before we're slated to come out. "Bloody hell, it sounds like someone's strangling cats out there!"

Jim and I both shudder. "Oh, horror," we say at the same time.

I lean in to him and he rubs my back. I catch John and Brian look at each other after sweet Bri expelled a slight sound of his own. Roger rolls his eyes at all of us and takes out a cigarette. "Ruddy bunch of animal lovers," he says without real heat behind it, only having a time lighting his fag. "--thank god we rehearsed, though, eh?"

Brian nods, standing and coming over to Roger. "... I'm beginning to think no one else did," he says, and stops with hand out towards Roger's hands and the light he cannot get. "Here, Rog."

Our drummer stops and raises his eyes, cigarette clenched at the corner of his mouth, and something passes between them as he hands the lighter to Brian. But for once, instead of saying "you oughtn't smoke these" or "they'll ruin your health, you know," Bri leans forward and carefully lights the end of Roger's cig for him. Cups our Blondie's hands as he does, and then steps away as Rog sucks in and then blows smoke in surprise. 

Again John is up to open our trailer door, just as crew comes up to knock and say we're about on. I see Miami hovering in the background, and he gives a thumbs-up, indicating something via gestures about the sound. It has been abysmal thus far, I don't know that we can attribute all the muddy sounds to lack of rehearsing. I toss my jacket over my shoulder, muscles moving to slide it off. "Do come stand sidestage to watch us, Jim my dear," I say, and press Deacy's hand as I pass him, looking into his eyes. "Are you ready, love?" I ask.

He sucks in a breath, bouffant hair bobbing as Roger shakes out his shoulders and puffs on his cigarette again, and eventually nods. The four of us and Jim exit the trailer and head towards stage, see people passing on front with instrument cases and microphone boxes. Bri gets his Red again, I receive a mic that will attach to a first stand - and hopefully someone knows about my staging style as otherwise I may snap off the stand itself - and then we're right behind the stage, there's curtains and a dull roar beyond. 

Jim steps to the side as I look back at my boys, these three dear men with me - Roger is bouncing, rolling his neck, shaking out his arms; Brian has shifted his guitar to hold her with one hand as the other touches John on the shoulder; and Deaks holds his bass, fiddling with strings, settling his shoulders as we hear the master of ceremony introduce us:

"And now, Her Majesty, Queen!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not meaning to disrespect any of the other acts, but Queen was, by all accounts, the only act that rehearsed for Live Aid. Which is one reason why they metaphorically blew the roof off of Wembley (though it hasn't got a roof ;P so they punched a hole through the sky!)
> 
> I'm gearing up for the actual performance, hope to do it justice, whew. Think most of the boys are showing nerves here - even Roger. This was a big thing
> 
> Hope you're enjoying, comments appreciated <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an addition to my Freddie POV after the asterisks here

I hear a roar soon as we step onto and cross the stage. Brian waves as I do, mock-boxing the air as I look out into the enormous crowd and see someone waving a 'QUEEN WORKS' sign, potentially on some bit of cloth. Roger's face is set as he goes right to his drums, and John bows as he plugs in his bass, standing before Roger. I soak up the excitement, my body atingle as I practically skip to the piano bench on the right side of the stage, scooting forward and laying my fingers reverently upon the keys. Cock the microphone properly as it bends over the eight Pepsi cola cups and two nearly-full beer glasses on top.

The crowd has quieted a bit, but their low roar starts again as I play. 

_"Mamaaa, just killed a man, put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger now he's dead..."_ the camera pans in on me after Roger tats his cymbals, just on the first moment I need to bring the words down for "...this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on". Brian does some high notation along with my piano before bringing in the first soulful riff before his solo.

And then I stand as we practised, legs spread apart, and a crewman hands me a mic without a stand. I'm so invigorated, prance and skip and scoot my feet across the stage for Roger's big hit, lifting my hand to gesture to and lead the crowd. 

_"I sit alone, and watch your light - my only friend, through teenage nights; and anything I had to know, I heard it on my radioooo..."_

***

I can't keep my eyes off him. We've got our mics to help, John has jumped right to sing into his for "Radio GaGa!" Which fills my heart, and Fred is loving it, doing splits onstage and blowing kisses and getting the entire crowd to repeat his vocal warm-up. This is such a great time, even as he looks as though he's going to throw his back out as Bri and I start up on 'Hammer to Fall'.

I'm screaming my vocals, John does a little disco bounce before Freddie grabs the shoulder of and dances with a camera man. Gives him a little slap on the arse too, which I know only because I know Fred, my drumkit is in the way.

 _"Ah, NO, AH NOOO!"_ I'm wailing, husk right on the falsetto if I say so myself, and here's Bri going out on his solo, Deaks with legs spread, bracing himself practically on top of my kit to hear it and keep his bass with me.

I'm bloody sparkling with electricity, it feels like. There's only a bit of wind coming through this whole stage, it's stifling back here, but I could give a rat's arse. This is the best ruddy work we've done in a fucking dog's age.

***

Freddie's smiling at the camera operator and crew who come up after 'Hammer', and his perfect smooth commentary about 'Crazy Little Thing' only being for beautiful people "which means all of you", how does he come up with this stuff? And walking all over the stage with his guitar as I do a step behind. I love it, can't help myself - whilst Brian of course needs his solo in because it's otherwise a little choppy guitar song. But he's got three different variants and they're all so incredible, I can't stop a smile. This does sound so good, and Roger's "READIEHHH FREDDIE!" is contagious, brings up the energy even more, as do his fast beats on 'Rock You'.

Just before it all comes down to this sweet section at the start of 'Champions', during which I breathe, I think for the first time during this performance. And as the crowd cheers when we go up for the chorus, I feel like I'm part of them, somehow. For the first time, I feel close to an audience without worry or fear. They really have brought us fame and fortune, and though it may not have always been roses or pleasure cruises, we've had some good times together, us four. And I'm grateful for it.

***

I get a lump in my throat as I watch Fred, as I listen to Rogie putting out his high notes on melody as backup, as Deacy literally backs up with me, doing a little shuffle step across the stage, his bass and my guitar. And then when Rog comes out at the end I have to grab him, ground myself in that yes, this did really just happen, we're still here, we're rocking, we are Queen. 

It's astounding and humbling, this experience. Like a dream, and as Freddie tells the audience we love them and I hold my beloved Red up high, clutching my best friend, my brother to my side and standing up here with my family, I feel as though everything is swirling round this one place; all our past and future endeavours somehow coalesce into this, and I know inside meself that this is without a doubt one of the greatest experiences of my entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila, and thus, the twenty-minute set of Live Aid! 
> 
> I hope I did this iconic performance justice - especially some of the little moments, there were so many incredible ones. I didn't even mention the crowd calling back to his AAAAY-OH too much. Oops! But I was basically sweating whilst writing, this was a tough one. Hope you liked it
> 
> I'm going to go search out a video of Freddie and Brian doing their little performance that night, otherwise next chapter will be a wrap-up. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you think, comments appreciated <3


	6. Chapter 6

"You bastards!!" 

We're barely backstage behind the curtains to hear that - Roger's chest heaving, Deacy grinning like anything, and Brian dabbing at the corner of one eye with a knuckle, ah, my sensitive dear. But then comes Elton John, my Sharon, barrelling up to us with eyes bright, arms out, teeth bared as he runs up to me and clasps my shoulders, looks at John and Roger and Brian. "You absolute fucking bastards, you stole the show!"

"... Wasn't that hard," cracks Roger, ever the wit, taking some of John's dryness as he adds "Sound wasn't even bloody working out there before us, what the fuck was up with that?"

"I intervened," the gravelly voice of our manager precedes his appearance alongside Jim, who, dare I say, looks as though he might have enjoyed this little outing, his eyes are sparkling and he cannot stop a smile now. "Soundboard said not to push the audio too high, but I took a leaf from Roger's book on needing to hear and said fuck it."

Roger lets out a guffaw, a crow, more like, and pounds Miami on the back. "We've got the most rock 'n roll of all management, bloody top, Miami!"

"Thank you, darling," I go over and give his craggy cheek a kiss. "Now there are showers I am certain we must partake of, at the very least Brimi and I, before we go out again." I wrap my arm around my guitarist's slim waist and rub my free hand through Deacy's fluffy perm. Slap Roger on the bum before reaching out to Jim, who falls in step with us after waiting. Always polite. He whispers "Wonderful," in my ear before reiterating the word to all of us. "Simply astounding - can't see how anyone can follow that."

"You wouldn't," Elton grumbles after us. "Because they're bastards."

"Don't be like that, darling, we love you," I blow Elton a kiss as he somewhat kiddingly shakes a fist at us, and sigh happily as we all head on together. 

"And ya know you love us, EJ," Roger calls, taking my move and slapping Elton on the arse as he passes.

John roars with laughter and Brian smiles, and I feel the warmth and joy and closeness as Roger winks and waggles his tongue cheekily. It is in Brian's eyes, John's smile, Roger's bouncing excited movements, and in Jim's face there is something of understanding. He has looked into our world, had a peek and seen something he appears to approve of, if not downright lauds. I know at least we can be clear what Live Aid has done for the world as well as for us. For Queen.

This performance, this entire day and everything it's represented, has truly been a great occasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unless anyone would like to see the night performance, I think this can end here. 
> 
> *Elton John did in fact call Queen bastards and told them that they stole the show. I think the bum slaps would be teasingly common among Elton and Freddie and Roger. Well, Freddie and anyone, as seen in the actual video of the performance with that camera man ;P
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this bit of lightness, my loves - I know I have!
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	7. Chapter 7

We're set to go on again in several hours, "Long enough in between to go for a pint," Roger said. I expect he and Bri are about tired of hearing all the not-quite-on performances going. We're all still so jazzed up from ours, Deacy's hands are shaking as he's trying to brush out his hair, no reason but for something to do.

All end up collapsing together in the trailer, til Roger shoves himself up and says he's going to search out a shower, "My hair's matted and I smell rank, so I can only imagine the stench of you, Fred. Well actually, I don't have to." 

He makes a dramatically disgusted face, waving one hand before his nose. Smiles as I mock another fist as if to take a swing at him but purse my lips and blow a kiss instead. "You can be such a bitch, my dear, but I love you too." 

I've flopped down as Roger grins and leaps down the trailer stairs, calling back "pot to kettle!" Or something along those lines. I don't know because I feel a wave of exhaustion hit me. I feel cold, suddenly, in this oppressive July heat. Could be because my sweat is drying, but I shiver, and instantly Brian is beside me, hand on my arm, eyes wide under that fluffy ebony fringe with concern.

"You feeling okay, Fred?"

How does he do that? I wonder, but try to smile and pat his hand as I see John squinting and tipping his head to the side, looking over at me. "...Right as rain, my darling," but my voice is a rasp. I lick my lips and clear my throat a little, and a burst of pain shoots through it. Ah. My heart isn't madly pumping anymore, I'm coming down off the high of performance. I might not be all that fine, the doctor could potentially have been right, but "Don't worry yourself. I'm just going to sit, that's all." 

Brian just looks at me, and then lifts his long cool hand to curl around my forehead. "You're hot," he says. "And clammy, we need rags and cold water, I think. Have to ask Roger for certain, where is he? Damn." Looking to John and Jim, whose presence remains beside me too, my sweet guitarist says "Jim, can you go find us some water, please? John, I think we need Miami, he'll know where we can get rags or something, sure. And he'll be discreet about it." Those eyes rise to each of theirs' as he strokes my hair and then cups my cheek in his hand. "Think Freddie's running a low-grade fever. Roger definitely knows better, so he can check, but."

"We need this right now." Jim nods, and I feel his strong hand cup the back of my neck and stroke my skin gently as he purrs in that sweet beautiful voice "I'll go on right for water then. Let's go, Deacy boy." He tenses as he lets go, I feel it, as if he wonders if he's crossed some sort of line-- but sweet John's face crinkles into a smile as he holds the door open for Jim and bows him out of it.

"Okay. After you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about it, and thanks to a comment I was reminded that Freddie might not feel the best after the adrenaline rush and dump subsequent to performing. So this is where his throat infection comes in. Let's hope the boys can get his fever down...
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	8. Chapter 8

Roger finds a bath (as is evident by his damp and scrubbed-looking self when he returns, shirt hanging over one shoulder and his torso glowing a bit as droplets of water fall from his hair). The excitement and iteration of "Found a shower, the water was ruddy COLD but they give you towels at least" are both evidenced by the fluffy one wrapped round his waist and held by one fist. Still wears his wristbands though, which I note just as his eyes catch on me and Brian beside. He must be able to tell no one else is in, because he drops his clothes and comes right over to me. "Fucking hell Bri, what happened? I wasn't even gone that long!"

"I'll be alright, dear, don't make a fuss," I sigh, waving a hand. "Just felt a bit cold, and Brian swears my skin is clammy, but..." I cannot stop a shiver then, and Roger's towel is off him and around me before I finish speaking. 

"Rog!" Hisses Brian, and a pair of trousers is flung into Roger's face. "Cover up for goodness' _sake!_ " 

"What? Oh, come off it," Roger rolls his eyes as he hauls up the pair. "This is nothing you lot haven't seen before." 

"And I remain impressed as ever," I say, doing my best to be saucy though I am feeling rather ill at the moment. Roger wiggles his brows and flicks his tongue at me, and Brian goes an incredibly deep shade of red.

"I'm going to need that shower," he grumbles as he goes to search out his second outfit - Brimi prepares for everything - and after gathering the clothes he takes out the acoustic he'll be playing with me and begins to tune it. Eyes keep flickering to me as Roger sits down, or rather practically throws himself across me on the couch.

"Here, I'll warm you up, Fred."

"Oh thank you. You're so sweet, Roger." I automatically go to run my fingers through his hair, though stop as my hand touches his shoulder as I realise just how long it's been since we were so close in proximity to one another. We used to share a bed in our flat at times as on tour, but that was more than ten years ago, now. He hasn't even been round totally shirtless since late seventies. 

He must feel me tense, because he rolls over and nudges himself into my touch, those azure eyes hooded but not squinting, as he is currently close enough to see me well. His teeth flash in a grin as he says "Go on and pretend I'm one of your cats, then, if - if you like." His tone is teasing, yet almost hesitant somehow; which Roger never is. I can tell he wants to make me comfortable, however, and so said such a thing.

A lump comes to my throat and I feel ashamed that I could be uncomfortable, even for a moment, a single instant with my Roger. No. That's absurd. I curl my hand into his hair, pushing my fingers through it and then stroking his warm back. "Oh darling," I whisper, running my palm back and forth across his shoulders, curling my fingers and gently scratching his skin with the nails. I hear him make a pleased noise as he fully relaxes, and even before John and Jim return with water and blankets at last, I feel so much better having my Roger in my arms as we listen to soft guitar strains from our Brian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something tells me Freddie might worry that he and his boys aren't as close if they haven't been physically for a while. Meanwhile Roger's mindset is "what the fuck, of course we are, here let me make you feel comfortable". Even after he's just basically sauntered round without clothes on ;P
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	9. Chapter 9

I must fall into a doze then, because I wake later, rising out of what seems like a mist to the lack of Roger's warm weight. Instead there's the feeling of my face being bathed in cool water by deft hands. I hear a high voice uttering

"Looks like the fever's gone."

"Thank heavens for that." And then a worried

"How can you be certain? We haven't the means, Roger,"

"Alright it feels like his fever's broken, but I dunno if the doctor prescribed anything, and I don't have access to a fucking thermometer, so you're right, I can't be certain, Brian," Roger's heated voice snaps.

"Shh, Rogie, keep your voice down," Brian says.

"As I recall YOU were disputing my information without fucking reason, so excuse the hell out of me for shouting," Roger growls. "You're not always the smartest fucking person in the room, you know."

"...What kind of medicine can we give him? Is there anything, before he has to go back on?" Jim's sweet lilt gently cuts off the argument as Roger actually answers him, Brian silent after our drummer's words.

"Typical treatment's paracetamol alternating with ibuprofen, but I've no clue what his doctor prescribed him, if anything." 

"You know Freddie, he probably would say he didn't need it, his health'll be restored by the power of music, darling," John's dry quiet voice floats over from a warmth under my legs. He must be sitting on the couch with my body across his lap, I realise.

Even quieter now, Brian murmurs, as if what Roger said keeps him almost mum. Or would, if he didn't feel the need to speak - and though my eyes remain lightly closed I can picture the puckering of his forehead, the glint of worry manifesting as tears in his eyes, that sorrowful nature of his that assumes the worst no matter how much he tries not. "... Could there be something else wrong, d'you think? The reason Fred's got a fever, could it... Could it be more than just an infection of his throat?" 

I tense automatically, recalling what the doctor said, even as I try to shake it off, stretch and haul in a breath, not allowing any such morose thoughts to take hold today. "Freddie," I see Brian hovering over me, Roger beside. John holds onto my legs, and Jim, dearest Jim has knelt next to my head with a wash rag. His Irish eyes are smiling at me as I stroke his cheek with one hand and sit up. 

"Well hello there, loves, what are we doing sitting around for? It's late now, yes?" The sun is no longer coming through our trailer windows, it's almost full-dark outside, the sky appearing as blue velvet. "I've been asleep for hours," I moan theatrically. "I feel so much better, why didn't you wake me?"

"So you would feel well, Freddie," comes John's soft sure voice. "And we need to get you some new clothes before you go on, did you bring any?"

"Oh, fuck, I clean forgot!" I throw myself upright, face blissfully cool even as I clutch it. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Whoah, Fred, you're alright, I've got an extra shirt," Brian, who I now notice has changed his shirt to wear one still with buttons on, but sleeveless. 

"I've got some white trousers," John says quietly, and my heart swells as I realise they must have had these clothing articles, kept them in valises or other bags in case we are asked to go on tour again. 

I feel so much affection I may burst as I ready myself to go back on stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fevers can be indicative of more than fighting off infection, but also of a depleted immune system, which Freddie could have already at this time
> 
> I don't know for certain what Freddie did for his second stage outfit, as I did notice his shirt during 'The World We Created' looks like one he wore during a performance of 'Good Old-fashioned Lover Boy' in '77. But it looks blousy enough to also be one of Brian's. And the boys shared clothes a lot in the seventies, which is wonderful to me. John has a pair of tight white trousers and he and Freddie are practically the same height
> 
> Next chapter is his and Brian's performance. Comments appreciated <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nighttime performance
> 
> Addition to Freddie's POV again

We're announced and head onstage in the dark to a crowd that roars as loud as it had those few yet at the same time endless hours ago. I instantly push my microphone away as I sit, holding the acoustic. This is for Freddie, the words of this song ought to come from him. I'm just here for music, to aid. Almost chuckle at the bit of wordplay and then am struck by Fred again, how casually he strolls across the stage in white, almost glowing in the spotlight flickering slightly as crew sweeps it to capture him for a moment. He sits down beside me, pats my leg. 

They kept his particular sort of microphone stand for him to use, and I feel such joy as I see his smile. Everybody wants to make Freddie Mercury happy. Or if they don't, they should. 

I nod at Freddie and the crowd, and start on a riff, a familiar bit that goes into our song, this little thing we wrote together long before Live Aid, yet it is so poignant, apropos to this moment. Freddie waits, knowing I will bring him in. He trusts me, which is wonderful and astounding and every day, even now, I wonder what on Earth I did to deserve this man's trust and love. His dark eyes catch mine, and in the light he looks like an angel, telling the world about what humans have done. He very well could be one. I smile at him with a lump in my throat and tears pricking and filling the corners of my eyes. 

This man, this extraordinary man, who stands now and comes to my other side, staying close and singing - to me and to everybody - though he's just come off a fever and slept for nearly three hours, you'd never know it. His voice is rich and clear and all the emotional heft of this song, these sentiments are in it, crying out as he lifts his face upward for our last verse, different from the others, yet subtly, so people might not instantly notice, particularly with Freddie's sweet voice washing over them. His voice aches and I hear so much as to nearly tremble in the force of how he sings these words:

_"Oooh is this the world we created? We made it all our own; is this the world we devastated, right to the bone? - If there's a God in the sky looking down, what can He think of what we've done, to the world that He created...?"_

It's as if they're tearing at his heart as he sings, in that powerful way he has always where every word, every sentiment is Freddie's own. Especially this one. I know they tear at mine, their meaning and the manner in which he sings; and I truly feel what a privilege it is for him to allow me to write music for him, to play the instrument I taught meself to play with meagre amounts of skill, particularly beside his genius. This gentle, loving man, who knows and at the same time doesn't know what a treasured soul he is. What he means to me, to us, to this world that loves him. 

I hear that love again as a roar goes up after he is done singing and I finish my last strains, waving and heading off quickly as I can. This is for Freddie, it's about Freddie, this performance of our song. I was simply the accompaniment. His was the mouthpiece, and I must swallow the emotional response roiling within me. 

All I can manage is a gasp when he materialises beside me from offstage, squeezing my arm with that invigorated grin, his eyes beaming as he shines in the shirt I lent him, so much more than me, than I have ever done, bless him - "That was bloody brilliant, Fred," I croak. My curls shake as I try to remain composed, sucking in a breath. I know my voice wobbles even as I strive to stay calm. "You were brilliant, as always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brian is so sweet and so unaware of his own impressive nature but in awe of Freddie's. I meant to have Freddie here too, but then just wrote Brian. What do you think?
> 
> Here is the link to the video of their performance that I consulted: https://youtu.be/riwDo7_GxjM
> 
> One more chapter to go to wrap things up, I think. Comments appreciated <3


	11. Chapter 11

I look up at my Brimi with all the love and pride in the world, to see him shaking as he professes my work on stage just now to be brilliant, even as he does not see the sheer brilliance of his own, with or without me. Magic flows through his hands, from his mind; unadulterated, unstifled or changed by any attempts to train, to force him into anything so boring as 'proper form'. He taught himself, my dear musical genius - and that unique genius with Roger's technique and power, along with John's steady talent and skill - we are so far more than the sum of our parts when together. And so much beyond what we have accomplished alone. 

I know that I am so much more with them. 

I never want, I cannot bear to face this life alone - as Brian wrote once. Not again - and my entire body jerks with that extent of feeling.

I don't know who reaches out first, but I am of a sudden pressed into Brian's chest, and am clutching at him. I feel his fingers in my hair as my face is pressed against his breastbone. One of his hands is holding my head as the other wraps around my back to hang on tight. "I love you, Fred," he whispers, and it's as if he's conjured up the others, because Roger comes whooping over, running with arms out, his golden hair the brightest thing backstage. John wears a soft smile in the darkness. 

"Fuck yeah, lads, well done!" Roger cries.

"Good job Bri, Freddie," John adds far more sedately, but his smile is big enough to split his face in two.

Jim is here now too, respecting distance and standing back as I look into Brian's eyes and reply "...Only as much as I adore you," whilst cupping my hands around his face and hair before the others get close enough to launch themselves at us for a group hug. "I adore you all," I get out, though that feels inadequate.

I look for Jim then and reach out for his hand after Roger ruffles Deacy's hair and Brian kisses the top of our drummer's head. Jim steps closer hesitantly, but Brian's long arm beckons and pulls him in and Roger nods infinitesimally as I snuggle up to this sweet man. Who had never bothered to come to a rock concert before, yet he came today, for me. To see me with my family, and I am more filled with love and gratitude for him, for all of them, than any words can say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Brian never had a single guitar lesson, because his parents couldn't afford it. I don't intend to say traditional teaching is stifling, but I do think Freddie would find it to be, well, boring ;P
> 
> And so this piece is over, and thanks to the Queen men and Jim for their loveliness - they're all a family now :) I absolutely love group hugs, I feel like all my fics have ended with them lately, sue me!
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed this as much as I have, my darlings.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


End file.
